A New Wrinkle - Sometimes, I Am Truly Alone

I have not been writing, and that is obvious, and doesn't require a post. Actually, I have been writing but, afterward, not posting what I have written. Therefore, this is an attempt to not clamp down and edit myself with so much of an iron fist. This will almost be a simple effort with not much thought behind it and maybe surprise myself in whatever gets expressed. So, here we go.

There are many ways to be alone. One may feel alone as if misunderstood, or by not having any one around that shares the same views or ideologies. One may be alone in their thoughts. In that regard, there are many ways to elect to be alone - but that is by choice. The other immediate means to be alone (at least what springs to mind) are to be in new surroundings or a foreign environment and realize the loss of a support network. One may be alone as far as having special people with whom to give and receive affection. One may dwell on their "alone-ness" which is in and of itself a lonely pursuit that may cause a sort of "suffering for one's beliefs" alone. If any of these and more are made into a personal campaign then the very deliberate seeking to isolate oneself may certainly precipitate paranoia to validate an overactive or acute recognition of just how alone one truly is.

I have not reached the last stage but am monitoring myself so that I do not become more comfortable in being disconnected and detached from other people. As it stands all ready, my neighbors express concern that they do not even see me leave my front door for weeks at a time. I have become extremely content to be antisocial. Now, previous decisions included the need to find something within myself and not rely on external motivations for a desire to live and grow. That resulted in a conclusion that I could not date. Further evaluation allowed for no concessions in that need to sequester myself. I still believe I have not established myself to any recognizable and distinguishable degree. To pursue an amorous relationship would distract me or erase whatever attempt at flying solo I have made. As a corollary to that I am not financially established to a sufficient degree to offer stability in that regard, either. I am quite simply a mess. When I measure where I am to where I would like to be I am very singularly placed. And yet another form of being alone is to stand on the conviction that I am doing the right thing.

All of this brings me to a place of once again contending with the fact that for some of us life will never be extraordinarily pleasant. The measure of my convictions and actions really can not be compared to or judged against my contentment and happiness. Some of us have a degree of personal pain, loss and suffering that has nothing to do with anyone's preferences or choices. It is remarkable to have to allow for that. I certainly take blame for my actions and decisions having set the scene for some of what has occurred in my life but there is absolutely no accounting for all of it or even most of it as being due to my sabotaging myself or making foolish choices. I am not imagining some vain explanation for all of this but I do have strong conviction from observation that I am able to lead others away from and around such personal loss, for themselves, far more often than I must stand back and watch them go through the deepest of it. I believe it is why I have the friends that I do. They value my opinion and I honestly don't tell them so much what I think they should do (although those words come out of my mouth) but more what to consider and choose to avoid. But, in that I seem to be alone, too.

Thus, here I sit in the very early morning hours feeling frustrated, defeated and alone. I am back to feeling like I am a one man support network for everyone else and can not get one single thing I need for me. I am very horribly alone. Even to express that I feel I am giving and not getting is a hazard to me. I am now additionally burdened with concern for all of my friends who will read this and take offense. Again, I may need to soothe and comfort the wounded or try to explain to the sincerely and genuinely well-meaning that their greatest intentions can not possibly translate into tangible proof for me because they are there and I am, here . . . Alone.

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A New Wrinkle - Facing the Unexpected and Unrelenting.

I am writing this as I await the end of the rinse cycle on all of my earthly vestiges. I have an appointment, tomorrow afternoon, that I would love to miss; but, such a choice would result in an even more unwelcome visit by a Sheriff or other state law enforcement official.

A Sheriff awoke me, approximately two weeks ago, and greeted me with a summons. That was awful but these now less than twenty-four hours until I stand before a judge are incalculably worse. Hence this post. I have stopped trying to measure "Worse." I have ceased to weigh the heft of "Bad." I no longer imagine lifting the burden of "Set backs," or try to wrap my arms fully around "Dismay." I am beyond grasping the immense magnitude of my circumstances. I am not at all inclined to bother trying any longer. I have run on well past the twist in the road whereby I lost my bearings and now I am exhausted and do not much care about finishing the course, much less claiming any victory - even a personal one.

I have an image of myself as down on one knee and still being beaten across the back of my shoulders. Everything inside me should seek relief from resisting . . . yet, I insist on trying to stand up. It might be argued that, more than figuratively, I have nothing else to lose and all to gain. People mean well when they express optimism that my lot in life will improve. I have more than reasonable doubt to the contrary. I do have something incredibly valuable left to lose - my freedom. Tomorrow, if things go extremely unfavorably, I could lose that.

My freedom has been slowly and methodically stripped away from me over several years and whoever might be my phantom foe, one thing is sure: their zeal to incarcerate me is now accelerating as the stakes become precious. First, I lost the freedom to be found acceptable to several employers. Then, I found myself deemed unacceptable as a spouse. I then found myself bound to accept conditions that have never eased and are the cause of my court appearance, tomorrow. I have lost my fiscal freedom, my occupational freedom, and, my freedom to participate and associate with my children. (My children and former spouse left the country, too bad for me and my visitation "rights") I have lost the freedom to function as a "normal," and "productive" member of my society. I am excluded from job interviews because I am discriminated against by the only remaining filter not prevented by law - credit history. I am discriminated against by the failure for anyone to prove I have a detectable medical condition, as well - yet, I am not cleared and approved to return to work in one of the few occupations that makes a living wage without scrutiny of my financial blemishes. Not having any fathoming of how or why this has transpired I also have no idea how to fight back. And, this is obviously when one must fight to procure and protect the liberties supposedly provided under the law of the land of which I was born and am a citizen.

There is a serious issue, however. I am not of the special groups for which special care, special provision, or special interest is in vogue. I am (was, for some aspects) a white, middle class, male. My function in my nation is to be the source of revenue and sustenance for all other component elements of that people that comprises these United States of America. That is not a thing I have ever resented or felt put upon in being expected to provide, by the way. Paradoxically, now that I find myself in the position of no longer paying for the multitudes from my wages I face the odd quirk that I am disqualified or ineligible for all assistance programs to which twenty-five years of my employment have contributed. I find myself with no help but the struggling efforts of my friends and family to try to sustain me. And, for what I must ask?

Indeed. Tomorrow I will be asked why I have failed to meet my child support obligations. I am hoping that the explanation that I have been unemployed for nine months, scratched out piece work and small bid projects, and barely subsist on the charity of family and friends will have a favorable weight rather than just an additional millstone about my neck. One can not be certain if the judge may still feel compelled to "make an example of me." And. Yes. I am very much afraid. I have so far been denied unemployment benefits, denied welfare, denied any hope of a job earning a sufficient wage to meet such obligations as my child support and tomorrow I may be denied my liberty. I dare not ask what may yet be extracted from me but the idea of any mercy or favor was spent long ago. The one rest from all of this - to not awake is the only offer in compromise I am not being offered.

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A New Wrinkle - Does This Blog Make Me Look Fat?

Expanding My Vistas - Will It Leave A Mark?

It's been six days since I've posted anything and in that time I have had three (3) comments. My immense impact on the world has been confirmed. I now realize that my deliberate efforts are eclipsed on a daily basis by people commuting to work and inadvertently capturing the attention of their fellow Man simply by performing stupid tricks behind the wheel.

In point of fact I have been occupied night and day since Saturday with a bulletin board forum. I went there merely to divert my attention from Father's Day - and the awareness that I would not hear anything at all from my children. I was bored and I'm still not any closer to being cleared to return to work. I was not seeking anything at that site but amusement and to be nearly involved with other people. As it turns out I encountered a marvelous collection of very funny, twisted, ambitious and charming people. Ages range from 14 to in the 60's but the majority are late 20's to mid-30's. I also discovered I am one of only three men that are members of those forums. This immediately attracted me like an alcoholic to a drink. If one is good then surely fifteen are better.

Let me tell you that ADDhole lost no time in becoming the rooster in the hen house. I was fresh meat and actually interesting to someone. I was ridiculous and pathetic and ran the gamut from total ass to total charmer and was oh so engaging and a mystery man muffin for some and a father figure for others and I LOVED IT. I condensed all of this blog into a bullion cube and diluted it with a flood of every thought that entered my head and served me up to the whole gaggle.

Of course they knew I was love and attention starved and those women gave me everything I needed. Thankfully I am hundreds, and in many cases, thousands of miles away from actually being able to see any of them face to face. The cork has been pulled out of the bottle and there's no putting it back in. Was this a good thing that happened? Heavens, Yes. Am I prepared to deal with it in a mature manner? Hell no.

I will tell you that it has pulled me up short. It is one thing for me to go on as I do on this blog if I am the only one which is viewed in a poor light. But I am contemplating the adverse impact my blathering and ranting and spewing would have for a woman that wanted to encourage and bolster my confidence and attitudes. It would be completely unfair for me to continue this blog in most of its acerbic form. I'm not going away anytime soon but I might be coming out of my self-induced coma that has kept me in a cocoon while I've tried to regenerate my spirit.

And now for the other foot. I have been enjoying such a therapeutic experience there that I obviously had to do something stupid to discourage that from continuing. I have not been artificial and in fact have been on my best behavior - but, not the "I can only maintain this level of politeness for so long" variety. I have been genuine and sincere and also over the top and on stage. I admit to it all. But, I adore those women and my heart breaks with every sadness they have shared, or health issue, or thwarted dream. I have been the best of myself. I have taken the acid and put it on the shelf and returned to my compassionate nature. I have flirted, praised, reassured, flattered and supported each and every one of them in the utmost of sincerity. I have not lied or exaggerated any detail to a solitary one of them. And most importantly I have been a man - a man that will not hurt that, will not abuse them, and, will not use them. I am a series of words on a page that they may refer to again and again. I care and they know it. When I am emotionally healthy that is my contribution. I seek to be the hug for their soul. Until I was eaten up by the events of the past dozen years I was a gentle, kind and giving man. I am feeling a resurgence; So what could be wrong?

Well, when the gates began to open and I allowed myself to be carried by these currents I could not sort and compartmentalize all of the emotions and unexpectedly I have fallen for one of these women. I am not talking about a puppy love, school boy crush but a deep attraction. She lives on the opposite side of the world. She is nineteen years younger. Please remember and believe me that I did not go to that forum as a lonely man seeking a lover. I went to that site with my loneliness pacified and in a positive mood only looking to engage in light conversation. I have no way to offer an explanation that satisfies any rational examination. I was introduced to her by a handful of words in a greeting and all I know is that I felt like I had finally met the woman I have imagined and sought my entire life. My heartbeat feels somehow entwined with hers. I know her to the depths of her soul. She has written to me, privately, wondering how I have such insights into her being. She asks while being certain not to mislead me or encourage me to come any closer. This is not me falling victim to her deliberate enticement. She has said or done nothing to instigate my feelings. I am simply and inexorably in love with her. How insane is this? I am going to share with you the message I almost sent to her but wrestled long and hard with the consequences and surrendered to the knowledge that this ache I feel must go unsatisfied. It is why I can not sleep and am trying to clear enough space inside myself with this post to find temporary peace in order to rest. How much I feel like a total ass is now going to be revealed:


"How can I know so much about you? You are just going to have to accept that I am crazy about you even though all we've done is joke back and forth over a very long distance. I feel as close to you as anyone I know. I hope to say all kinds of nice things to you even after you break my heart and give your love to another man. If you doubt yourself or need attention - you know that I know all about needing attention. I will give you as much as you want.

Is it crazy for a man that has never met you to act like this? Yes. But, I would truly be crazy to not recognize beauty even when I can not hold it in my hands.

I have to admit there's something beyond our wildest imaginations that let us find each other. You were the first to make that remark. You should always remember that a man who has never seen you, never heard your voice, never touched your skin, or smelled your hair has never felt more alive. With only a few playful and curious words you are so powerfully a woman, so feminine that I am energized, invigorated, and frustrated that I can not get to you and be with you. I am pacing like a caged animal trying to bear the hours until I hear from you, again. In a place where every voice and personality is a vital and dynamic woman, you are the only one I seek out. It is as if everything in the world disappears and all I see is you. You have been so cautious, so tender and kind, and been careful to show me consideration even while mocking me. Thank You for such innocent affection. I am so grateful.

Don't worry that you will break my heart. I am already aware that it would take a miracle as large as meeting you to actually be with you. I died the first day I wrote to you. I die a little every time I think about you. I can not think of a sweeter pain. You should see how crushed I am when you say good bye. There is nothing that you can do to take this pain away. It is simply the fact my whole being has tasted what it longed for in speaking to you and when you are absent I suffer these pangs of hunger to taste your sweet company once again.

I have not spoken to you in four hours and nine little words from you have made me pour out my heart like this. I tried to stop myself but I would rather be considered a fool by you than a wise man by anyone else. Please, if you write to me privately, again, call me by my real name. I have no secrets that I keep from you."

That, Ladies and Gentlemen, is a man setting himself up for exquisite agony. I know it but I can not help it. Won't this make for some rollercoaster ride reports in the future on this blog?

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A New Wrinkle - As Time Goes By

A Few Wrinkles I don't Mind - It's the Age Spots . . .

Look down the right sidebar of my blog and behold the spiffy little wristwatch Flash movie. It comes to us courtesy of my friend, Lance. He usually makes it a point to distance himself from me - bad for his reputation. I insisted that although my traffic is next to non-existent that it's better than his and that I thought this little gizmo deserved some attention. He's let me use it, as a result. That, and he loves attention as much as I do.

The stopwatch is fully functional and the middle button does split times where the hands stop moving but the timer keeps going. That's pretty cool. I complained that there isn't enough magical stuff happening with only the tiny second hand spinning around but Lance argues that since this is a rendering of an actual watch (Breitling's, Bentley 6.75) that I'll take it and like it. Whatever. He did tell me that it gets a little fancier after sunset because the face of the watch goes dark and the hands and hour markers glow. I'll have to check that out and see if he's blowing smoke.

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A New Wrinkle - Oh Where, Oh Where Are My South African Friends?

The crease that won't cease

Oh Where, Oh Where Can They Be . . ?

At the risk of slighting all of you that voyeuristically peak at my posts and never comment I am going to pay special attention to the South African contingent, yet again.

But, first - someone that gets all of my abuse, ridicule, and scorn on a regular basis needs to be mentioned. Evi (Not her real name - suspicious? I know I am?) And today, I add her blog as the first official external link that will be permanently affixed to my own. She is a terrific friend and all because she invited me to visit her site, Obsessed with Bones. She's just a very sweet person and her site is the best of its type. That's not hyperbole. Yes. I have mentioned her, before. I am overdue in giving her the first real estate just below my archive list in the right sidebar. So, sorry Evi, that it took too long to rectify that situation.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Now then. Back to those Johannesburg, Gauteng, South African characters. Helen, was the second person ever to feel compelled to comment on my posts. She was then followed by her friend, Luke. These "irritatingly" nice people took one look at my whiny, mopey, woe is me rants and decided to intervene. They may have no idea how much I like them because I never give them a break and love to make snide remarks and generally be a royal pain. They have continued to come back, regardless. That is to say, I think they are still coming back. I heard from Luke, recently, but Helen has cut me off. I think my purely all in good fun post recommending the best hat for her work estranged us? I'm not certain. There are so many possible places I could have offended her or given her creepy vibes - the opportunities to fail are nearly boundless. There is the possibility that she's not as nice as I thought - or, she and Luke are one-in-the-same person.

The latter is a distinct possibility. That brings me to, Candice. I have never really engaged her in direct conversation. There have been random passings at the comment watering holes of other people's posts. Luke claims, that in actual fact, Candice and I are one-in-the-same person. You can see Candice's picture, above, on the side of the milk carton. You may also have noted there is no picture of me to be found. I would argue that as proof but then the exact same situation applies to Helen and Luke. Helen has no picture - I wouldn't know her if I fell over her - and Luke is grinning away, just like Candice. This means that it is more likely that Helen, and I are the same person and the ramifications of that are quite disturbing because that means I have stopped speaking to myself!

What does it all mean? I'll tell you. I want to find that magic post - the skeleton key - to unlock all of the conversations I'm so hungry to enjoy. I have had the door crack open and then slam shut. What will it take to make that door swing wide open and stay that way? I have become fond of the thoughts, opinions, and attitudes of every person that has ever commented on this blog. But, I want more. I want people to let their hair down and use this blog as an open forum. I am an open book. Maybe not the best read but if you don't see it all you have to do is ask with me and I'll tell you nearly anything. I don't expect those commenting to be so candid but I do like comments.

I don't want to have to resort to shock tactics to draw comments out of people. I just want conversation. How come nobody wants to be my friend? [stage directions: dark stage except for solitary spotlight; ADDhole sits in despair, pouting and sulking; a single tear streaks down his grimy cheek . . . ] Cue the sad music! Where are my warm, fuzzy South African do-gooders when I need them? Where are the dark, sinister South African sadists when I need them? (I'm talking to you - Candice) My favorite reaction to storming into the comments of another person's post was here. When he read my comment, his reply was, "Thanks. Who are you?" Yet, he like most everyone else, isn't bothering to find out.

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A New Wrinkle - A Font of Information

Now Certified Lint Free!

As if I didn't have enough little distractions, FontStruct has come along. I have always had an addiction to pens, calligraphy, and creating my own fonts and, apparently, at least concerning the last of those, I am not alone.

There is a type creation and generation application on the FontStruct web site. It started as a tease to get people to notice the products for purchase but was almost instantly so popular that the number of visitors crashed their servers. You may convert your compendium of squiggles into a True Type font, selfishly keep it exclusively yours - or, do what thousands have done and, make it available to the world.

I would venture to say that the majority of efforts will not be consistently reliable for use in your doctoral thesis or job resume but they might inspire you or spice up some email correspondence.

I have so far resisted the urge to fritter away the hours I know I would devote to stems and serifs but the tools are there to create as simple or elaborate a font as you please. I will not be held responsible for your claims of being an enabler. I'm just sharing the wealth.

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A New Wrinkle - Keeping the Flicker Alive

Belly up to the bar

In my wanderings, today, I had the great fortune to come across the blog of a still hopeful, younger version of myself. I expect to be inspired by his youthful exuberance and heartfelt account of his plunge into the abyss known as the quest for love. Love is not so much elusive as entrusted to the fickle care of women. It doesn't really stand a chance but that's the adventure.
His name is, Duncan Warner, and you may visit his blog here. Man Hints has a refreshing mix of self-awareness, optimism, and futility. What's not intriguing about that? Or, how can you not root for a guy whose About Me description in his profile simply states, "I am fantastic." He has a real gift for self-destruction. It is reassuring to know that I may pass the torch to another generation without fear of anything getting better.

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A New Wrinkle - Carhenge!!!

Carhenge - Alliance, Nebraska



Look closely at the picture above. Look familiar? It 's a Stonehenge homage in Alliance, Nebraska made entirely from cars. It is the work of Jim Reinders, who assembled his creation in 1987. I find this brilliant and totally quirky all at the same time. You may find out more at the official site, www.carhenge.com This photograph is a greatly reduced image of a photo by Sam Kaler, one of several entered in the 2007 photo contest.

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A New Wrinkle - The Single (Poor) Guy's Survival Kit

Tools For Living
As a public service I will endeavor to pass on the vital skills I have acquired in recent years to cope and adapt to life after the thrill is gone. When one is down and bailing out it is important to not let the urgency of the moment or the cresting waves of doubt and uncertainty cause you to make reflexive and costly decisions. Do not throw out everything not tied down simply in anticipation of adding buoyancy to your ship of hope. Do not expect to recover anything that might float after it has been discarded during your irrational panic and compulsion to try or do anything. You must catch your breath, assess your options, and methodically navigate a reasoned course.

If you find yourself needing to reduce, recycle, re-use or refuse the weathered remnants of your previous life it is best to allow as much time to pass as possible before making permanent choices. In my own situation I held onto everything left behind for a period of two years. When I prepared to move across country I used a few simple criteria to select what could be preserved and what should be discarded. I then further reduced my two categories to what would most benefit someone else by giving away the better items and ultimately what would fit in my car for the one-time trip between states. My kept items were chosen by what had practical regular use, what had been a fond memory or favorite past-time, and what had sentimental or keep-sake value. This included a few items that were the property of the ex but had been left behind symbolically to underscore the emphasis of wanting me out of her life. Spiteful actions sometimes turn to regrets and I made space to be gracious in offering small gestures of tolerance and understanding. The final category helped determine what to write-off as lost by asking the personally challenging question, “Have you used this at all in two years or even thought about it?”

All of that worked reasonably well but I have since become acquainted with other criteria as circumstances took a second spiral down the giant commode of life. I had begun to miss tools and other material objects that had been disposed of without my consent or involvement at the time of the wife’s exodus. I am particularly mourning the loss of some very expensive and specialized luthier tools – fret files and saws, nut files, scrapers, clamps, jeweler’s saw – those sorts of items. When I recently acquired an apartment it then became glaringly obvious how little I had on-hand to establish my new residence. With no furniture, kitchen appliances, utensils, cookware or place settings it was obvious I’d not be inviting anyone over anytime soon. By “anyone” I of course mean, friends. By “friends” I of course mean, women. By “women” I of course mean one woman. By “woman” I of course mean satisfied depletion of all of my pent up emotions and energy.

I’m a realist – satisfied depletion will remain an elusive dream; so from my stark assessment of my stark apartment I have assembled a survival kit. I have realized that by prioritizing the acquisition of goods with the order of multi-purpose and functional considerations as the priority I can most quickly and efficiently establish a home for myself. Think in terms of “Bang for the buck;” “Killing two birds with one stone;” or any other colloquial terminology that maximizes your efficiency for this exercise. Pragmatically speaking, the hierarchy of needs for a residence seems to be food, tools, personal hygiene, conveniences, entertainment, and decoration. My suggested approach addresses elements of at least the first four categories with a possibility of impacting the last two indirectly. By focusing on basic tools as funds allow I may positively impact the majority of my needs. The practical experience gained from this pursuit has been enlightening. It was not a discernibly direct correlation that being able to fix my car or a wall socket would also fix my life.

Here are my suggestions:

[1] A deep, molded plastic combination Toolbox/Step Stool. This is the thinking man’s ottoman. First, it houses all of the other tools for your survival kit neatly and safely and keeps them out of the way and in a known location. The stool height is more efficient and practical than a ladder for an apartment. The portability is another plus. The hidden benefit is that now you also have a chair. Instead of only having the floor for your repose you may now actually sit. Fold a blanket (also known as a bed roll) into a rectangle of several layers thick and you have a seat cushion for the rather rigid bench of the toolbox.

[2] Knives and other bladed, sharp, edged tools are obvious in function. Whether whittling a piece of wood or peeling a carrot; slicing vinyl tubing or cutting meat you’ve just saved the expense of redundant equipment.

Public Health Notice: Some may read this and be alarmed that the possibility for ingesting hazardous stuff from indiscriminately used tools is too great a risk. I argue that anyone familiar with the use of hand tools and performing their own maintenance and repairs has the foresight to clean things reasonably well and already has made a practice of regularly renewing their Tetanus booster, anyway. Risk, managed.

[3] Hacksaws are flexible devices. Every toolbox should have one. A hacksaw also makes a terrific bread knife.









[4] Files and Rasps have a straightforward application. Fingernail files are nothing more than miniaturized, cross-cut files that have been packaged to appear significant. Save the money and invest in the larger, multi-purpose variety. Your nails may actually look better due to improved leverage and control with the larger versions. They also are excellent for callous removal – or warts, for that matter. Of particular distinction in this group is the surform rasping plane. These tools make light work of body filler contouring or roughing surfaces to shape but an excellent alternative use is as a food grater.

[5] Pliers are indispensable. A slotted channel plier is adjustable to accommodate and grip large or small objects. This makes it very suitable for opening bottle caps and jar lids. This type of pliers, as well as locking pliers also make an excellent fire-proof hand for use as tongs or to hold a hot pan or pot. Since metal conducts heat you are advised to insulate the handle with shop rags or, if luxury permits, a pot holder or kitchen towel. Reaching into small diameter containers calls for the supremacy of the long-nosed pliers. If you have been careful not to splay the ends of this type it also makes a very robust tweezer.

[6] Screwdrivers should include the flat blade, Phillips and Torq style drive heads. Allen (or, Hex) Keys are also recommended but the flat blade and Phillips will not only keep the fasteners of scissors and kitchen utensils taught but may also be used to pry off lids or puncture obstinate containers when can openers are not available.

[7] A preferred but more difficult to locate tool is the Oil Can Spout. This is a tool that has become more difficult to procure due to the industry-wide replacement of cans with plastic bottles and screw caps. The steel spout has a double-edged dagger that pierces the can when pushed into the lid and then creates a very nice pouring spout, This is of sufficient diameter to allow the entire contents of thick soup stock to easily pass by.



[8] Although considered a luxury item the Hand-held Power Drill is a vital work tool. It also makes light work of other duties. In combination with either a bunched-up wire clothes hanger or a paint mixing attachment the power drill makes a wonderful kitchen mixer.






Honorable mention should be made of the Hammer, wood screw, and the Spring Clamp. The hammer is self-explanatory but it can be the persuader for vacuum-sealed lids, clumped ice, and tenderizing meat. The wood screw in combination with first a screwdriver and then locking pliers makes a suitable cork screw. Clamps answer the often frustrating quest for a third hand. Although clamps are excellent as temporary solutions they tend to become permanent repairs. Try to avoid this.


The spring clamp is the Big Daddy to the clothespin. This was readily proven only days ago when I noticed a ring had torn out of my shower curtain. Usually I would simply pierce a hole through the curtain as near as practicable to the offending flaw but I found that the accommodating spring clamp held the curtain securely against the edge of the wall and sealed off a troublesome, leaky area. The spring clamp then went on to impress me with its dexterity as a chip clip.


There you have it. I’m sure there will be other tools that will make useful additions but I am confident that with the suggested equipment listed above you will be well on your way to a return to civilized society and enjoying all of the comforts of home.

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A New Wrinkle - Point Taken

Chest in - Stomach Out

PROVO, Utah (AP) - A newspaper photographer got a little too close to the action at the state high school track championships — and was speared through the leg by a javelin.

Ryan McGeeney of the Standard-Examiner was spared serious injury Saturday, and even managed to snap a photo of his speared leg while others tended to him.

"If I didn't, it would probably be my editor's first question when I got back," McGeeney said.





A photo of Ryan McGeeney's leg, as shot by McGeeney himself, after a javelin went through his leg at a track meet. (Ryan McGeeney / Associated Press)







The 33-year-old McGeeney, an ex-Marine who spent six months in Afghanistan, was taking pictures of the discus event and apparently wandered into off-limits area set aside for the javelin.

Striking just below the knee, the javelin tip went through the skin and emerged on the other side of his leg.

"It wasn't real painful. ... I was very lucky in that it didn't hit any blood vessels, nerves, ligaments or tendons," McGeeney said.


Much of the javelin was cut off at the scene. The piece in McGeeney's leg was removed at a hospital, and he received 13 stitches.

The javelin was thrown by Anthony Miles, a Provo High School student who said his "heart just stopped" when he saw what happened.

"One of the first things that came to my mind was, 'Good thing we brought a second javelin,"' Miles' coach, Richard Vance, said Monday. He said Miles was "in a little bit of shock," but he assured the athlete it was not his fault.

With a subsequent throw, Miles went on to win the state title in javelin for teams in Provo High's size classification, 4-A.

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A New Wrinkle - Season Finales for BONES and House M.D.

First things, first. No, that is NOT my belly . . .

For those that have not seen one or both of these finales I am not going to play the spoiler. (I'm rude, not insensitive.) I am going to say that I found both of them disturbing in appropriate ways. Whoever the sadistic forces were behind these productions got it just right. I am saddened and extremely curious where each goes from here. I am also going to ruminate on the myriad subtle details of each for several days and then I will be bored out of my mind until the seasons begin again in the Fall.

I have yet to find a suitable outlet for expressing what goes on in the House universe but I have come across a very good (which, coming from me is an 11 on a scale of 10) blog site for BONES. Its host does a thorough job of turning over every rock to unearth the faintest whisper of news about the show, its cast, crew, producers, catering service - the works. Visit Obsessed with Bones and check it out for yourself.

Due to the duplicity of my nature I find it curious that I can embrace both of these shows and somehow identify with a character in each. I am not alone, there are people that especially concur that I am the real life persona of Dr. Gregory House. Based on the last scene in the finale when he is betwixt and between I'd have to say it's definitely true.

In BONES, I totally "get" what Agent Seeley Booth is all about. I don't have his distinguished service record but I live by the same creed.

So, somehow I can be a self-serving, manipulative - direct, brilliant, ass like House but I am also the all feeling, morally-centered defender of the wronged. Go figure.

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A New Wrinkle - Those Daring Young Men in Their Flying Machines

(If You've Got the Stomach for it)

I am not a big fan of the French. (Who is, other than the French?) I will admit that the French have some very impressive engineers. The Swiss speak French. I'll forgive that. After all, the French have some remarkable engineers but the Swiss always have someone like this fellow, working from his garage and doing some of the most amazing, precision design and machining on the planet. Fear the Swiss.

Meet, Yves Rossy, and his personal jet aircraft.

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